


Spoopy and Creppy Halloweeny 2020

by FishFlesh



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Cannibalism, Character Death, Death, Dread, Fear, Lovecraftian, Suicide, gotta tag all the things to be safe, idiots scared of harmless animals, some spook, some spoop
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:34:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 14,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26754361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FishFlesh/pseuds/FishFlesh
Summary: Halloweeny prompt time with all the finesse of a rotted pumpkin :D Don't expect greatness from me, I am the equivalent of finding a juice box in your bag of Halloween candy.
Comments: 23
Kudos: 24





	1. Fever

It started with a sort of restlessness, a vague sense of _something_ looming just ahead that would come into view at any moment. A low thrum of anticipation that whittled away at patience and peace of mind until it began to build into a sort of paranoia. No one aboard the Ark could decide if it was panic or mania.

As the days wore on more of the resident Autobots displayed strange behavior. Bluestreak was found wandering the halls at night as if mapping them out, one by one, while Grapple Wheeljack had to cut into the walls of their wrecked ship in order to extract a muttering Ratchet. Other bots were found partaking in strange behavior while others seemed to be missing entirely.

No one but the Prime seemed to worry much when he wasn’t preoccupied with continuously adjusting the sparse furnishings of his own quarters.

It was as if some spell had befallen them all, some bizarre fever that left them befuddled and waiting on an invisible edge as some unforeseen expectation steadily drew near.

Slowly, as the thing, whatever it may be, drew nearer, the Autobots sequestered themselves away. Though who had been missing returned, Jazz had even been polite enough to let everyone know with his manic-edged laughter. The ship quieted after that, with all the bots hiding away in their quarters.

The halls echoed with muffled noises, pings and clanks, and soft banging. The murmur of unintelligible speech behind walls and locked doors. Only Red Alert and Prowl wandered the corridors, making sure everyone was safe despite their preoccupation, and ensuring doors were locked where need be.

It was only with the arrival of the humans that the growing unrest snapped, the crew of the Ark venturing out of their rooms to greet their human friends as they entered the ship, the small group caught off guard by what they were presented with.

“Wow, guys,” Spike turned in a slow circle just inside the entrance of the Autobot ship, a little overwhelmed. “This is fantastic! But, uh—”

“Did we do it wrong?” Bumblebee asked from his spot in the front of the gathered Autobots. Jazz was laughing quietly behind him, but everyone else seemed interested in the answer as well. Had they done it wrong?

“No way! It’s great, really. But you guys do realize Halloween is at the end of the month, right? You didn’t have to have all your decorations up yet!”


	2. White Noise

「I don’t like it.」Red Alert’s grumble crackled over the comm. line while Jazz was surveying another abandoned corridor. The crunchy, poor quality of the audio was something they had both noted when they’d come to investigate the abandoned base but, as of yet, no cause had been found. Now, walking down the silent hall with its quiet rooms, the sound was unnerving.

「I don’ like it either, Red.」Jazz was poking his head into another office to find it, like so many others, oddly normal. A work station on either wall with datatablets sitting in neat little piles, chairs pushed back but not toppled, and a thin coating of fine metallic dust over everything. Creepy. 「Any luck on your end?」

The Autobots had lost contact with this particular outpost some time ago. Initially, as was generally the case at this point in the War, it was thought to have simply been another casualty of the Decepticon advance, but now that they were mapping out exactly where their enemy held territory they’d found this place wasn’t held in Decepticon territory at all. The fact the entire base was abandoned without a sign of struggle or panic was the real mystery.

With the lack of struggle, and the lack of remains, Red Alert had been brought in to investigate the powered down, but intact, security grid and base mainframe for any clues as to what had happened here. Jazz had taken to checking every room despite the initial reports claiming nothing of interest had been found. Nothing wrong with double-checking, after all.

But it was creepy. The entire compound was deathly still and quiet, the air stale and the faint, acrid scent of dust just left Jazz  f eeling uneasy.

There was another crackle over the comm. line, some indistinct sound as the security mech worked. 「Maybe. Security seems to have been disabled at some point but it looks like the system as a whole just shut down from lack of operation and there don’t appear to be any breaches that would indicate a viral attack or hacking. It’s just like—」

「 Everyone up and left, yeah.  Find anything before security went down ? 」

There was another pause but Jazz waited patiently, moving down the hall to find yet another ordinary if somewhat creepily intact office. He was just exiting back into the hall when the tinny crackle of Red Alert’s disquieted voice finally answered.「Jazz, you’re in the admin wing, correct?」

「Sure am, why?」

「Well it looks like the base security director, records have them designated Tripbreaker, had been monitoring the security equipment for several days without break.」

「When you say without break...?」

「Nonstop—not even a break for fuel.」

Okay, so either the base security director was a workaholic or something suspicious was going on. 「So~?」

「Well,」Red Alert’s voice conveyed his uneasy confusion despite the crackly interference.「Shortly before the security grid was disabled, a bunch of personal went in there with him and just… stood around. I can see it on the security footage, they aren’t doing anything and nothing is really happening. They stay like that for too long to be comfortable, like half a day too long, and then the feed goes dead.」

Well, that was… weird. And creepy. This entire base was creepy and Jazz was tired of it, even if the mystery was something he wanted to be solved. 「I’ll take a look. Sit tight, mech.」

「Be careful Jazz.」

The security office was farther down the corridor  but Red Alert was outside in the armored transport for safety,  accessing the base security either remotely or through external hook up  so the security office was empty when Jazz stepped through the door. Here the atmosphere was much heavier, despite the room being just as still and ordinary-looking as all the rest.  A low, subsonic hum registered on the edge of his audio range, no doubt the security systems online now that Red Alert was accessing them, though none of the equipment was currently turned on.

Jazz shook off the heavy sensation of being watched and turned to wave at the security camera mounted  i n the corner of the room, sure his fellow Autobot was watch ing before he turned back to the room to look around. 

Everything was normal looking, no gray frames, no sign of struggle or panic. A thin coating of dust covered everything, the fine metallic particles sticking to his fingers when Jazz wiped some it off one of the dark monitors.

After another moment of looking at the painfully normal security equipment, and trying to ignore the oppressive nature of the very ordinary room, Jazz powered up the monitor equipment. The monitors flickered before lighting up with a sea of snowy static  and a faint crackled much like the Autobot comm. line had  been experiencing.

“Fantastic.” He muttered, fiddling with the dials in an attempt to get a clean image from the cameras but failing to change anything but the whine and crackle of the hum-buzzing static.

Lines of distortion tore through the static snow and Jazz couldn’t help but wonder what half-signal they were picking up since it was clearly not the cameras scattered throughout the base. The wavering not-images were inconsistent, from small flickers to sudden, massive shifts in the snow. While there was nothing to see, he found himself watching in hopes of some definable shape.

「Jazz?」

“—!” Jazz wasn’t going to admit to jerking at the sudden voice, reminding himself that yes, of course, Red Alert was waiting for him to report back on the room. He turned, offering the camera a smile as he leaned back against the security console with his hip.

「Nothin’ weird here, monitors not pickin’ up anythin’ from the cameras though. Did you not power them all up? 」Smooth save, Jazz.

「I haven’t powered the security network up at all, I’ve only been accessing the archival data on the base servers. Why, is something on in there?」

Jazz didn’t answer for a long moment, staring at the camera that was, apparently, offline still. The heavy impression of being watched had not gone away but now that it was clear he wasn’t being watched through the camera… And the security network was offline.  The oppressive atmosphere seemed to condense as he continued to stare at the camera, listening to the crackling static of the monitors behind him.

Watching.

He turned enough to look back at the monitors and would have jumped out of his plating were it not for the tingling sense of unease that told him panic would only endanger him.  The many faces staring back at him, wavering in the white noise, could have been dismissed for some errant video signal if not for the fact each one was different.

Slowly, as if afraid of faces would somehow stop him, he reached out and firmly shut the station down, visor locked onto the bank of monitors as they flickered off. 

The heavy feeling didn’t go away even as he backed out of the room into the administrative corridor. It followed him through the empty base, it’s lack of personel and still emptiness even more unsettling as he made returned to the transport.

“Hello? You didn’t answer me.” Red Alert frowned from where he was settled in among the little nest of monitors in the transport’s belly. “Was something one in there?”  
  
Jazz was already readying the vehicle to disconnect from the base power grid. “We’re leavin’. Somethin’s wrong and I don’ think it should just be us two.” Or anyone, but he doubted command would accept that answer. Not entirely anyway.

“You, uh, going to tell me what’s up then?”

“Later, I just wanna get away from here first.” Get back home to HQ where he could let the science team figure it out. And maybe remove the vidscreen. from his quarters. His plating crawled from weight unseen optics.


	3. Fangs

“Will it hurt?” Hot Rod asked, staring up at an ancient relief on the wall opposite the small entrance to the hidden room they were both in. The carved image of was some ancient battle, monsters rushing up from the depths to battle against heroes of long ago. Hot Rod couldn’t name any of them, not yet, and he wasn’t sure he’d be able to name them after, either.

The heavy door was pulled shut, Optimus Prime making sure it was secured from within so they wouldn’t be disturbed. “It might.” The Prime turned to close the distance between them, crossing from one wall to the next with little trouble. The room was tall but not very wide. “Don’t worry about it too much, it will be done quickly enough—it is what comes after you must save your resolve for.”

“After?” The smaller of the pair turned, peering up at Optimus as he came to stand beside him. Hot Rod had been told there was….an ordeal, of sorts, in taking on the mantle of Prime, but he had assumed it was the physical changes the Matrix would inflict upon him.

“After.” The Prime nodded and reached out with a gentle hand to guide his heir away from the wall. “There isn’t much time, they will be coming soon and you must be prepared.” A glance at the relief and its army of monsters. “Are you ready?”

Hot Rod also looked at the carved scene, frowning. Was he ready? Being Prime was a lot of responsibility and he wasn’t sure he’d make a good Prime at all, despite how sure Optimus seemed to be. 

But Optimus was right, they didn’t have a lot of time.

“Yeah, I’m ready.” He wasn’t, but that wasn’t going to stop this from happening now.

They two turned toward one another. No words were spoken, everything that needed to be said had been done so long ago when Optimus was preparing Hot Rod for this day. After a long moment where they simply looked at one another, sharing some quiet understanding that helped soothe Hot Rod’s uncertainty, Opt imus allowed his chest plating to unlock and swing open.

The Matrix flashed, a glittering crystal refracting sparklight from behind it as the artifact was pulled free from its housing. Hot Rod had seen it once before, when Optimus had shown him, and it was just as beautiful. A shining ball of facets that drew all attention to it like some magnetic beacon.

Aside from the mystique of the Matrix, this act seemed otherwise so…  mundane.

But Hot Rod reached out to accept the object offered, fingers brushing over his mentor’s as he took the sturdy handles  and drew the Matrix close. For a moment there was nothing, only the low thrum of the thing in his grasp. Another moment and his world erupted into light and heat and  **power** . There was a searing warmth that lanced through him, mapping his circuitry, but there was no agony beyond a single stab in his chest.

And then it was done.

He knew his name, given by the Matrix now hidden within his own chest, shielding his spark. Rodimus Prime. He was taller now, stronger, and there was a gnawing  _ knowing _ in him that the true test had not yet come.

He looked across at Optimus-Orion, physically they same though, somehow, diminished. Ordinary. He did not wish to hurt him.

“Optimus—”

“A new Prime comes into being when the old one is no more. I had to do it as you will have to do.” There was no fear, only a waver of sadness at what was being lost.

The new Prime shifting his weight, finding that had changed as well. “I don’t want to hurt you.” But already his he could feel the thin seams opening. The push to act in him was persistent. 

“Then do it quickly.”

Well, that wasn’t comforting.

But a Prime was rarely afforded comfort and Rodimus knew his duty. A new Prime could not be while the old one persisted, there was never any record of any predecessor surviving the ascension of a new Prime. He  _ knew _ . 

So the new Prime stepped forward, the seams splitting his face opened and Optimus bowed his head as the tangle of shearing  fangs in a flowering maw descended upon him. It would hurt at first, they both knew, but Rodimus was determined to make it quick. He would be a good Prime, he wouldn’t let his old friend suffer a slow death.

The tall little room was filled with the rending screech and crunch of tearing and crushed metal. The sharp pink of shattering glass. By the time silence returned and Rodimus Prime left the ancient, underground chamber Optimus would be no more but a memory to cherish.


	4. Black Cat

“Mirage has some kind of mutant organic monster living in his quarters!”

That was enough to draw everyone’s attention to the yellow minibot standing on the table. Bumblebee looked uneasy but continued one, now that he was the center of attention. “I saw it! It’s all black and wrinkly! It’s got a long skinny tail and giant bulbous eyes!”

Many of the Autobots in the recreation room seemed confused, trying to think of an Earth animal that fit that description.

“Are you sure it’s a real animal and not a decoration for Halloween?” Sideswipe asked with a frown. Black, wrinkly with big eyes and a skinny tail? He couldn’t think of anything that fits that but he wasn’t an expert on Earth flora. “Mirage and Hound have been ‘getting into the spirit’ or whatever, I’m pretty sure Hound bribed him or something.”

Bumblebee shook his head. “No way! It moved and everything—it growled at me!”

That was enough to cause alarm in the gathered bots. They spoke in hushed, concerned tones as they all considered what to do. An organic monster wasn’t something most of them knew what to do about other than splatter the thing but if it was in Mirage’s quarters…

“It’s because Mirage is—”

Cliffjumper didn’t get a chance to finish before someone covered his mouth to stop the rant that would have surely continued. No, organic monsters had nothing to do with Decepticons, they were sure, and no one wanted to hear the old, tired argument.

But something had to be done, what if this creature was dangerous?

\--・\--

Prowl gave the small crowd hovering at his office door a dubious look. “A dangerous organic monster?” When Bumblebee, the only one who’d come into his office proper to speak to him about the problem, nodded Prowl was unsure what to make of them. Surely they had all gotten into some spoiled highgrade?

“Again, you mean to tell me that Mirage has a strange organic creature that none of you can identify? Mirage?”

“Well, he shares a room with Hound so maybe its Hound’s organic? But there is definitely some kind of weird-looking monster in there! You should see it’s big creepy eyes bulging out of its face!”

Right.

Prowl only sighed. Hound was out with Jazz and Trailbreaker on patrol but Mirage was supposed to be here on the Ark today. Might as well get to the bottom of this before the rest of the crew got it into their heads to panic about some animal.

“Fine, I’ll look into it. Bumblebee, you may accompany me but I want the rest of you to get back to your duties. If this creature is dangerous I’ll make sure everyone knows.”

\--・\--

“What...what is that?”

“A hat.”

“But—”

“I’m a witch.” Mirage smiled sweetly from where he stood in the doorway, his very tall, very witchy hat an offense to Prowl and his questions. It was seasonal! It wasn’t his fault Prowl try to take the human holiday so seriously. Regardless, he was sure Prowl and Bumblebee, who looked both worried and amused, had come to his door. “What is it you need?”

Prowl drew his attention away from the over-sized pointy hat, or tried to, while he spoke. “It has come to my attention that you have some sort of exotic organic in your quarters and I need to ascertain it’s threat level.”

They were all silent for a moment. Prowl, serious and severe. Bumblebee, nervous, and on alert. And Mirage, incredulous.

And then he laughed. Oh. Oh, his was _fantastic_.

Mirage stepped aside to wave them both into his and Hound’s recently redecorated quarters. The room was very darkly colored with many seasonally-themed decorations. Dark fabrics, yards of synthetic velvet, and something sparkly with little flying mammals on it, draped from the walls and over furniture. A rot iron patio table for humans made a nice little stand for the largest crystal ball they could find, quite small for Mirage’s hand but humans had a smaller scale for everything.

While Prowl edged into the room, looking around with slow consideration as he took in the unfamiliar sigh, Bumblebee followed Mirage who stepped away to sit on the velvet draped sofa.

“She isn’t exotic.” Mirage began. “Not intrinsically, that is. Though I admit, Nyx is unconventional looking.” Of course, he did nothing to aid them in finding the mysterious animal.

The two guests didn’t seem put at ease by this but that was alright, Mirage had a good enough argument if Prowl made a fuss about when he eventually found—

A low, deep growl stretched out from near where Prowl stepped and he stopped, looking down at the dark alcove made between a storage unit and some sort of woven wicker container containing sticks with… smaller sticks tight onto one end. He leaned over the dark spot to get a better look and saw two large, bulbous yellow eyes peering up at him from a small, triangular head.

The creature growled again, large ears swiveled back like horns, and it’s black, wrinkling flesh rippled down it’s curved back and a thin, whip-like tail lashed. Prowl took several steps back immediately, stiff and alarmed. Mirage was laughing and all he could do was cast a glare at the nonplussed spy. “ _What is that?_ ”

Bumblebee had scrambled up onto the sofa beside Mirage when the animal had made its spooky noise. The blue bot ignored him, getting up to step close to where his organic monster was hiding and reached down into the dark space to carefully gather the tiny, hairless organic into his hand.

“This,” Mirage chimed, holding his hand near his chest but easily allowing the pair of skittish Autobots to see. “Is a cat. Hound said humans consider black cats bad luck and some humans adopt them this time of year to hurt them. You two aren’t afraid of a little cat, are you?”

“Cat’s are hairy!”

“I agree with Bumblebee, cats have fur covering their body. That… does not.” Prowl looked a little more believing but still seemed wary. Mirage didn’t much care, taking his tiny feline friend over to the sofa where he sat down beside a very still minibot.

“Come sit, Prowl. She’s only making a fuss because you’re big and strange.” The cat, because it was starting to look more like a cat now that they could both see it so easily, slid out of Mirage’s palm to curl up on his thigh, half under the safety of the mech’s other hand. “She’s a Sphynx, they’re bred to be hairless like this.”

Bumblebee finally moved, slowly leaning over to get a better look at the...naked cat. Yes, a cat. A weird, wrinkly naked cat. “So it’s just a normal cat but without the hair?” Well, that wasn’t TOO scary. Cat’s could move fast and were small, so the only real fear was hurting one by accident. “They’re cuter with hair.”

Prowl had approached slowly, reaching out slowly in hopes of not spooking the animal. He could accept a hairless cat easily enough, even if it looks bizarre. He took great care in running his finger over the tiny back, trying to assure the animal he wasn’t going to harm it. “Why do you have a cat, Mirage?” Not that it was a problem, at least this wasn’t like that incident with Ironhide and the golden retriever.

The cat, Nyx, was less growly now that the two strange giants weren’t stomping around near her. Mirage was content to let her stay curled up under his spread fingers. Hound had brought her in from an animal shelter in town under the assurance the animal wouldn’t be hurt. They seemed to believe an alien robot wouldn’t believe in human superstitions related to black cats. Mirage smiled. “Because I’m a witch and every witch needs a black cat.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Terrifying gremlin cats, everyone should fear for their lives.


	5. Insomnia

Bluestreak nudged his cube across the table, blearily watching the liquid energon slosh against the inner walls. He wasn’t very hungry but he knew he had to fuel or he’d fall asleep and he couldn’t go doing that when there was so much to be done—there was always so much to be done. He decided he’d go and visit Prowl in the medibay. There were tasks to be done in any department so he doubted Ratchet would mind if he helped out there today instead of over in engineering. He sighed and downed his cube, grimacing at the bitter taste of stimulant additives, and got up from the table.

The halls were empty as he made his way down towards medical. Bluestreak tried to ignore the lonely feeling but it was difficult with the quiet sounds of the base around him but the total lack of life from having many others around. It was understandable, he supposed.

Once he’d arrived in the medibay he found his way to where Prowl was sleeping in a medical berth alone the far right wall. He looked peaceful but Bluestreak knew otherwise. He let his gaze linger over Prowl for a long moment before shifting his gaze past him to the next bed, where Ironhide was also asleep, and beyond him where even more Autobots were laid out in medical berths, trapped in sleep.

“He’s stable. They all are.” Ratchet’s voice was quiet, subdued, but Bluestreak still startled. Ratchet huffed but there was no snark from him. “No change, however. I can’t get any of them to even twitch.”

“I see.” While it wasn’t good news he supposed it wasn’t terrible either. No one had died of this yes, but those who had drifted off and been woken beforehand never spoke of pleasant dreams. There was no peace for those who slept.

Bluestreak really hopped those in the science department could fix this soon.

He pulled over a stool and sat, leaning forward on his arms so he could speak softly about his day. About the patrol and how Optimus Prime was trying to settle a cooperative agreement with the Decepticons—they were falling asleep too. He told of how he worried about Jazz, who was still missing and presumed asleep, lost to them all. It was all very terrible, really.

“I miss you.” He thought it would be easier to bear if Prowl were awake. “I wish you were here…”

_A low howl tore across the land, a black sky stretched starless and unending over a vast field of long swaying grasses cast in a cold, pale light. The wind was chilled and the howling grew louder, growing like a dark storm in the distance. The noise rose, roaring over the wind, the unseen giant closed the distance. He ran, sluggish, from the encroaching dread gaining on him. The sea of grass rippled, swaying the gusts of wind, but he was too slow._

_Something was coming_.

The world shook around him and Bluestreak startled awake, alert and alarmed. Ratchet was beside him, hand still firm on Bluestreak’s left pauldron.

Oh. He’d fallen asleep.

“Sorry. Thanks, Ratchet.”

“Primus, kid, don’t get too comfortable. How close was it this time?”

He thought for a long moment, remembering the fear, the sense of imminent doom. “Close, I think. Right behind me? I couldn’t run fast enough.”

Both of them were silent for a long moment, Ratchet with concern and Bluestreak with the quiet realization he’d nearly joined Prowl in Ratchet’s line of sleeping Autobots. There was nothing for it, he’d rushed to wake others who had dozed off too and had sometimes been fast enough to save them.

“What do you need help with, Ratchet?” Bluestreak turned away from the sleeping Prowl to look at the medic. Ratchet was haggard, everyone not sleeping in the medibay was, but the medic looked more hollow in the face than many. It must be stressful, Bluestreak thought, to be unable to do anything for your friends when something as mundane as sleeping was their ailment.

Ratchet looked over the quiet medibay with a frown. There was no use in lecturing anyone when everyone was struggling to remain away. “Not much, really. Things have been quiet here. What you can do for me is go check on Red Alert and make sure he drinks his fuel. I’ll have something for you to do when you get back.”

Bluestreak cast Prowl’s sleeping form another long look before he nodded. He could do that if he was free to return after. Ratchet offered him a cube of energon, likely the same stimulant laced concoction they were all drinking now, and send him on his way. That was fine, he was sure the doctor would find something for him to do while he was gone.

There was always something to do.

Another lonely, quiet walk to the security officer gave him enough time to calm down, not that it mattered very much when his panic spiked the moment the door slid open for him. Red Alert was bunched over, a still shape against the glow of security monitors. Bluestreak darted through the door to give the sleeping make a good shake but he didn’t rouse.

“Red Alert?” Another shake and nothing. The panic surged for a moment before ebbing away to a low anxiety. There was no point in trying now, he wouldn’t wake up.

It wasn’t difficult to get Red Alert’s sleeping form to the medibay. The chair had wheels and all Bluestreak had to do was lean the dozing mech back against his own front as he pushed the chair down the hall. He couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity and hopelessness, this was ridiculous!

Primus, he really wanted to sleep.

Ratchet was only mildly alarmed when Bluestreak returned with his sleeping guest, only muttering darkly and setting up another berth along the right wall. They both set Red Alert on the berth and Ratchet took over setting up the monitor equipment.

“I’ll go a look around, check on everyone.” While he wanted to stay with Prowl it was probably a good idea to make sure no one else had dozed off. Bluestreak didn’t wait for an answer, turning to begin wandering the halls. At this rate, all those still awake would end up just sitting in the same room to make sure no one else fell asleep.

The walk felt too long, like the base had grown larger. He knew it was because he was tired because he hadn’t slept in nearly a three a month. His head was heavy, like it was filled with cold liquid lead, sloshing around like the energon in his earlier cube.

Just stay awake.

He checked every room as he went, most of which were silent and empty. The science laps were occupied, everyone awake, as was the engineering workshops. A few mechs were in the rec. room, keeping each other awake. Bumblebee was even keeping an eye on Mirage who looked ready to keel over.

Bluestreak found Optimus Prime in the communication hub, alone — Blaster was asleep in the medibay — with his head in his hands. At first, Bluestreak thought his leader was simply taking a moment, exhausted. Negotiation with the Decepticons was rocky at best, but with Megatron and Soundwave both asleep, Starscream was being difficult.

“Prime, sir.” But when there was no reply he could only sigh. He approached and reached out a hand, shaking the large figure but no, Optimus Prime was asleep as well. Bluestreak could only sigh, trying desperately to fight the looming sense of despair.

How many more?

This chair didn’t have wheels, so he made the long, lonely trek back to the medibay to get a medical berth and inform Ratchet. He would help the medic with their sleeping Prime and maybe when he was done he could sit and just let his processor rest. They would all fall asleep eventually, he just knew, but he had to keep trying.

He was so tired and there was always so much to do.


	6. Old Gods

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The other side of the last chapter

A sea of swaying grass rippled like waves in the cold wind, everything painted in a pale blue light. Above him the sky was a black void, no star or moon to be seen. Tall pillars of stone stood in a long line in the grass, casting black shadows far across the grass and over the treeline of the forest while in the other direction the pillars pointed out a town of stone.

Jazz was running, the odd, organic scenery lost on him when the deep, primitive urge to flee consumed him. Behind him was a howl, a low rushing noise that grew massive like great wave rising up to swallow him. He crashed into the trees, plunging into the deep shadows of the forest and pushing his way in deeper. The sound, the sensation, of being chased ebbed away and Jazz found himself safe in the dark.

Where was he?

The trees were not so thick a Cybertronian couldn’t move through them, or so it seemed, but upon a moment of careful evaluation, it was more evident he was just smaller. Or the world larger. Whatever, it didn’t matter much so long as he was safe.

Jazz wandered amid the forest where it was dark and cool. He found a pool of clear water and looked out across its glassy surface. There, the reflection on the far side, he could see Ironhide walking along the bank. There was no way to reach him, Jazz knew, he’d been here almost as long as Prowl who he’d seen sitting reflected back at him from the glass wall of a water jug, his friend sitting on the floor inside of the spindly building sitting on its own between the forest and the town.

He’d glimpsed others in reflective surfaces as well, even Megatron had been there in a puddle in the grass, but reflections did nothing to help with the isolation. When was the last time he even spoke? It felt like he’d been here for eons.

After Ironhide’s reflection had walked out of view, Jazz returned the way he’d come. He needed to get into the town but he had to cross the open grass to get there and there were always eyes out there, waiting. He knew, to his core, that They would not kill him or any of the others, but They would do something to them, to him. They wanted him, them, for something.

But if he could just get into town, get to the fountain, then he could wake up and… Well, he wasn’t sure what but it had to be better than staying in here.

Just past the treeline everything looked clear. The yawning black sky and the swaying grass was still there, the pillars and their long black shadows in the pale light. Jazz waited another moment, listening to the whoosh of the wind and the rustling of the grass before he ran.

The grass split as he ran through it, rushing in a mad dash to the first long shadow of a pillar, hiding in the darkness despite only the wind chasing him. When nothing came for him he ran again, darting out into the cold light. This time the roaring came, the howling wind-not-wind rushing after him as he sprinted toward the next shadow.

Huddling down in the dark Jazz covered his head with his arms, curling up into the grass in the black shadow as the sound wailed in the pale light on either side. It was heavy, the sensation of being watched, of something large and cunning standing just behind him. His spark pulsed, spinning wildly as fear spiked through him, and he couldn’t bring himself to look. There was nothing, of course, he was safe in this deep shadow, but it took far too long for the noise to fade and the hazy presence to pull away.

Then there was only the low rush of the wind.

Slowly, the deep panic sliding away to leave him trembling, Jazz uncurled from where he’d huddled over in the grass. He looked out over the dimly lit landscape but saw nothing but the grass and the pillars, the spindly building with the jug of water, and the town beyond it.

He had to get to the town. He could escape if he got to the town.

Jazz pushed himself off and steadied his nerve, taking a moment to brace for the chase again, before sprinting out of the long shadow of one pillar as he headed for the second. Almost immediately the roaring howl returned, the unseen weight of something bearing down on him, closing the distance with great strides, made him panic anew.

Again, he found himself curled up in the grass, hiding in the black shadow of the stone pillar as one of Them screamed and wailed. Safe as he was, his fear dug deep and stole thought from him, leaving him to whimper and curl up tightly to hide from the thing he knew lurked just beyond.

As before, the noise flowed away and the presence bulled back, leaving the poor Autobot to slowly unfold and push the fear down.

On to the next.

Jazz took a deep breath, sucking the chilly air through his vents, and readied himself. While the fear prickled him still, he knew he could run to the next shadow if he stayed focused. He waited for a lull in the wind before rushing out into the blue light again.

But immediately the noise had returned, the presence of one of Them slamming into him as if he’d run right into it. Terror shot through him as something icy wrapped around him, yanking him up off the ground. The ground below him rushed away, the roaring joined by a more shrill, more raw sound that he barely registered as his own screaming.

The scenery shrank, flying away to a tiny speck, all of the strange dream world a painted tile floating in an endless void, and Jazz was screaming and They were all around him, unseen but gargantuan. He was pulled up among them, wailing as fear consumed him like ice. Tiny and terrified in their hold, he could see them but not see them.

And there was no escape.


	7. Costume Party

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate this entire thing but too bad, enjoy my garbage

Bumblebee felt self-conscious, running his hand over the new paint Carly had suggested for the party. He was a vibrant orange and it felt Very Wrong but at least Carly and Spike seemed to think he looked the part pretty well.

“Hey Bee!” So much for going unnoticed, but being orange in such a dark room made you stand out, he supposed.

“Hey, Jazz! What are you dressed as?” He smiled up at the other Autobot, taking in the dark paint and the red accents. The visor, usually blue, was a deep red and all but two very thin red pinstripes was a rich black. There was some fancy design in the black paint down in glossy finish to contrast against the matte.

Jazz smiled, showing off new platinum fangs, his red visor dimming to become a dark garnet. “I’ma vampire, Bee! C’mere so I can bite ya!” Jazz laughed, clearly amused, though Bumblebee only smiled up at him.

“But Jazz, I’m a pumpkin, vampires don’t eat pumpkins.” Which was true, from what he understood, vampires drank human blood. Why humans would think up such a monster was another question he wanted an answer too but none of the humans he’d asked could answer him.

Jazz snickered, patting his very orange friend on the shoulder. “Yeah, well hush. I’m supposed to be scary! Have ya seen Prowl yet?”

Prowl? Bumblebee looked around and spotted a few others, most notably was Optimus painted in some weird green with weird squiggly lines all over him. “No?” No Prowl. “Why, did he change his mind about coming to the party?” He sure hoped not, it was kind of interesting seeing what everyone would dress as.

Jazz could only shrug. “Dunno, I’ll bug him if he doesn’t show up soon. Now,” The vampire smiled, grabbing the minibot and pushing him gently toward the small crowd. “Go say hi!” Another push sent the orange bot off toward the gathering bots while Jazz laughed, turning to speak to something else and show off his costume.

Well, maybe no one would think he looked silly as a Pumpkin after all.

Bumblebee came to stand beside the weirdly green Optimus who was having a quiet conversation with Ironhide and Mirage. Ironhide and Mirage had repainted themselves too! Mirage had added a lot of gold to his blue and had long strips of white fabric wrapped around him while Ironhide had his red paint blotchy with imitation rust and dark spots with simplified internals painted in gray where the ‘holes’ where. Huh.

“What are you supposed to be, Ironhide?” He asked, drawing the small groups' attention to him. It was clear Mirage was an Egyptian mummy but Ironhide was more of a mystery to him...

“He’s a corpse.” Mirage sniffed, looking at Ironhide as if judging him for his poor taste. No one was offended, the display was so over the top it was clearly fake and sometimes Mirage enjoyed playing up the stereotype of a snob.

“Zombie,” Ironhide replied, reaching down to flick the dark triangle on the left of Bumblebee’s chest. “And you’re a Jack-O-Lantern, right?” He nodded. “S’cute, the humans’ll like that I think.”

“Thanks! It was Carly’s idea. They’ll be here in a little while with the other judges to decide who has the best costume.” No doubt the humans would be very entertained. “Speaking of, what are you dressed as, Optimus?”

The big convoy looked down at one green arm, as if unsure himself. “A ‘Frankenstein's monster? Some human monster made of patchwork parts.” Which wasn’t really too scary for the Autobots who sometimes used recycled parts in repairs. Bumblebee supposed organics might find it scarier. “I’ll be interested to see how many of us got these costumes right.”

Tracks came into the room with Ratchet, the former painted white and gold while his wings were covered in feathers. It looked like some sort of wire support held them in place but it was certainly an interesting effect. Ratchet was red. Just red.

“Uh… what do you suppose Ratchet is supposed to be?” Bumblebee pointed them out to his companions and heard Ironhide curse. It took the minibot only a moment to understand and try desperately not to laugh.

Ratchet made an excellent Ironhide.

“Yeah, yeah, very funny.” Ironhide grumbled.

Bumblebee wandered away, mingling around the slowly gathering Autobots and checking out everyone’s costumes. Cliffjumper was a devil, having changed very little other than adding a long tail that ended in a spade. Brawn was a knight. A very short knight, but he was painted a shining silver and had hammered out a helmet to look the part. Gears was a spider, painted brown-gray with lots of bent wire rebar legs wrapped in brown faux fur. Smokescreen was painted a shimmering pearl and had a long, narrow silver cone spot welded to his forehelm. Another mystery for Bumblebee.

And then there were the twins.

Sideswipe and Sunstreaker were the sun and the moon, with Sideswipe switching out his red for a cool silver chrome. Their paint was detailed in swirling motifs in glittering metallic flack and each of them had a corresponding headdress. Sunstreaker wore a wire halo of golden spokes while Sideswipe had a crescent moon for his.

Commotion at the door marked the arrival of the humans, Carly, Spike, Chip Chase, and Sparkplug. Tracks had wanted Raoul to come as well but getting the rebellious human to come across the country for a costume party was difficult at best.

“Hey, guys!” Spike was greeting everyone when Bumblebee made his way over. They’d come in with Hound who, while still green, was covered in tiny painted scales and a pair of equally scaly false membrane wings. “Ready to see how everyone did?”

Spike, dressed as an astronaut, offered his Autobot friend a smile. “Hi, Bumblebee! Yeah, we’re going to say hi to everyone then have everyone line up to judge.”

“I can’t wait to see everyone.” Carly chimed in, dressed in a black gown with a very wide skirt and some fluffy white thing circling around the back of her head and neck. Bumblebee had no idea what she was supposed to be dressed as, it didn’t look like a monster or a special profession and he hadn’t seen humans wearing clothes like that whenever he was in one of their cities.

She caught him staring and smiled, grabbing the sides of her long skirt and bent at the knee to lower herself. “I’m Queen Elizabeth the First.” Bumblebee nodded, still not knowing who that was but accepting it as truth. He’d look it up later.

He turned to the other humans, finding Sparkplug dressed as Elvis, a human celebrity Bumblebee did recognize, who offered him a polite hello, clearly distracted with looking at all the Autobots dressed up for the holiday.

When Bumblebee looked for Chip Chase, dressed as some sort of warrior in a chariot, he found him speaking to… to… a tall white blob. Someone covered in a patchwork of white clothe sewn together to make one very large sheet. There were holes cut out in the front where blue optics shone through, and two small holes near the top for the red tips of a chevron to poke through and keep the fabric from slipping.

Wow.

“Prowl?” He was sure he was gaping, staring at the veiled Autobot. The twitch of doorwings hidden under the cloth confirmed his suspicions.

“Hello, Bumblebee.” Came the slightly muffled reply. “You make a good pumpkin.”

“You do! Hi Bumblebee!” Chip Chase waved, the large red tuft sticking out of his helmet bobbing as he turned to Spike and Carly. “We should get started.”

The other two young humans nodded, the three of them collecting the still distracted Elvis impersonator before wandering away to greet others, leaving Bumblebee looking up at Prowl in silence. They two stared, well Bumblebee stared, at each other before Jazz’s dark form slowly peeked out from behind the wall of white.

“He’s a ghost.”

“I’m a ghost.”

“You’re a ghost!” Well, that made sense! He wasn’t sure if Prowl was genius or just didn’t want to put in a ton of effort, but then his megasheet was made up of a bunch of smaller pieces. The slight variations in color and texture gave this ghost some interesting visual elements but it was still a big sheet. But Prowl wouldn’t need to get repainted like so many of the other Autobots here.

Well, Prowl always was pretty smart.

“Don’t worry, Bee, Prowler isn’t the only one wearing a big sheet. Didya see Bluestreak yet? He’s the Grim Reaper, got this black cloth all over him, and a big ol’ stick with a curved blade on it.” That sounded kind of spooky, but he doubted Prowl would have allowed this little party to go ahead if people were planning on bringing real weapons along.

“Nope, haven't seen him yet.” There were a lot of bots he hadn’t seen yet, but that was alright. “But why is Prowl a ghost?”

The ghost and the vampire looked at one another, the act taking more effort from Prowl as he clearly couldn’t see as well through the holes in the sheet. Prowl sighed, the sheet moving as he gestured his hand under it.

Jazz grinned, leaning in close to the minibot to stage whisper. “He died from workin’ too much.”

Prowl only snorted but didn’t seem to put off, and Bumblebee though it was kind of funny too. “Does that mean you’re a vampire because you suck, Jazz?”  
  
The aforementioned vampire gasped, splaying his hand over his chest and leaning back in mock devastation. “Bee! My cold, undead spark!” That got a chuckle out of everyone nearby.

The conversation moved onto everyone’s costumes and who hadn’t seen who yet. Prowl made special note of Red Alert’s costume, something which Jazz and Bumblebee hadn’t seen yet, though he did not tell them what it was, only that it was very clever. Jazz liked Mirage’s mummy and the twin's sun and moon get up. Bumblebee also learned, through Jazz, that Smokescreen’s strange horned costume was supposed to be a unicorn.

The sudden voice of Carly yelling for everyone’s attention pulled them from their conversation as they turned to look. The humans were up on console where they wouldn’t be underfoot, and all the Autobots had quieted down now that instructions were being given.

“Everyone line up!” There wasn’t enough room for one continuous line but that was fine, they all shuffled around to form three lines of costumed Autobots. Bumblebee was in the second line beside Shiny Knight Brawn and Ghost Prowl, while Jazz had vanished into the back row near Mirage.

“Now,” Carly started. “You all did a wonderful job getting into the Halloween spirit!”

“Yeah, you guys did great! We all had a chance to get a look at everyone and are ready to announce the winners of the costume contest!” Spike stepped aside once he was finished speaking, standing next to Carly while Chip Chase cleared his throat.

“Third place winner is Mirage!” Polite claps and congratulations were made as Mirage strode out of the third row to stand near the humans. Bumblebee had liked the use of gold lines in the spy’s paint and assumed the humans agreed. Mirage was awarded a big white ribbon that Sparkplug needed both hands to handle, custom made for the Autobots, no doubt.

Spike stepped up to continue where Chip Chase had left off. “Coming in second place is Bluestreak!” Now Bumblebee got a chance to see the Grim Reaper costume as Bluestreak came out of the second row on the far end, a great black mass of swaying dark fabric and the big stick weapon Jazz mentioned. The sniper’s face was mostly hidden under the drapery, but Bumblebee could spot a smile as he accepted his big red ribbon.

“And finally!” Carly cried, making a big show of presenting the blue ribbon, though Sparkplug was still the one handling the thing. “First-prize winner, because his costume is actually scary, is Red Alert!” Bumblebee hadn’t even seen Red Alert’s costume, but out of the third row, a darkly painted figure came out to stand with the other two, his back to the gathered Autobots. All Bumblebee could really see was a long fabric cloak of black and dark gray, made to look work.

And then Red Alert turned around.

Those who hadn’t gotten a chance to see the costume yet gasped and Bumblebee nearly ran forward to help. Red Alert was painted a mix of black, silver, and gray with a splash of energon pink paint places over his hood and up to his neck to where his head _should_ be. But no, Red Alert’s head was tucked into the crook of his arm, looking back at them with a smug expression.

“Your ribbon, Mr. Dhullahan.” Sparkplug passed Red Alert his blue ribbon, the security director taking it and magnetizing it proudly in the center of his hood.

“Thank you.” It was the head in the mech’s arms that answered, earning another gasp from some of the crowd. Bumblebee could hear Ratchet cursing behind him somewhere. Clearly Red Alert also heard him as he pulled his head up and neatly pressed it down onto his neck, earning another snarl from Ratchet, before turning to bolt out of the room with a concerned and angry Ironhide-lookalike chasing after him.


	8. Doorway

There was something wrong with the closet in Bluestreak’s new room. While the rest of their new home was fine, the closet in the youngling’s never felt right. He never saw any monsters in it, no, but there was definitely something not right about it. The moment Bluestreak stepped through the doorway, things always felt off. At night, when it was time to recharge, he always kept the door closed. Leaving it made it difficult to rest, the dark space ominous despite a lack of sound or any sign of movement from within.

“It’s just a closet, Bluestreak.” Prowl said, stepping into the small room and touching the walls. By all accounts, it was a normal closet, an empty space to store things with a shelf up top. “Perhaps if we put your storage trunk in here it will feel less strange to you.”

Bluestreak wasn’t sure but agreed to try. Prowl helped him put the big trunk into the closet where it would be easy for the young mech to access. Once finished, Prowl left his young charge to go and begin working on their supper, leaving Bluestreak in the closet with his trunk.

For a time it seemed fine, the youngling having opened his trunk to begin sorting through what datapads he wanted to put on the shelf by his berth. Perhaps it had only been the closet’s emptiness that had spooked him for he felt no unease now. He even felt safe enough leaving the closet door open when it was time for recharge.

A mistake.

Bluestreak woke in the night, feeling anxious. He wasn’t afraid, only hyper-aware of everything around him. The closet doorway loomed, a dark opening in the wall of his new room.

He _knew_ there was nothing in there, he’d been in there just fin earlier! Prowl had been in there and found nothing and Prowl was super smart! So the youngling gathered his courage, climbed out of the berth, and turned on the touch lamp on his self so he could see. He approached the doorway and, instead of closing the door as he’d done on his first night in this new house, stepped into the little closet to face his fears.

It was… just a closet.

Bluestreak frowned, walking the two steps it took to get to his trunk and put a small hand on the closed lid, looking around. The closet was as it had been before, though the feeling of something being off remained. Another careful look found that his trunk had been pushed away from the wall, leaving a gap he could fit his arm into.

That was creepy enough to send the youngling scurrying back the five steps it took to get through the doorway. It was only after he stepped back into his berthroom proper did the difference in the distance struck him as odd. Another peek back into the closer and Bluestreak found that his trunk seemed farther away.

Was the closet getting bigger?

Braving his unease, Bluestreak stepped back into the closet and walked the seven steps it took to reach his trunk. The gap behind it, between the trunk and the wall, was larger than before as if the wall had pulled away. A look at the other walls found that they, too, seemed expanded from their positions earlier, leaving the resulting space as large as the big fancy closet in Prowl’s berthroom. How big would it get? Maybe that was why the closet always felt so wrong because it was just a little bigger each time he came into it?

Bluestreak decided he would show Prowl tomorrow. It was the middle of the night and, since the closet had no light of it’s own, relying on the touch lamp on his shelf wasn’t going to do it. Tomorroow, when it was brighter, he could show Prowl and maybe his guardian would solve the mystery! So the youngling returned to birth, having closed the closet door and turned off his lamp, and tried to rest.

His new house had a mystery!

The next morning Bluestreak was woken up and by the soft sounds of movement in the hall. He clambered out of the berth, groggy, and hurried out after Prowl who was, by now, halfway down the stairs to the ground floor. He caught himself on the banister, catching sight of his guardian at the bottom of the steps.

“Wait! Prowl, wait!” Prowl stopped, turning to look up at his charge. Prowl looked a bit groggy himself and Bluestreak offered a sheepish smile. Oops, his guardian had probably been going to get his morning fuel. Oh well, Prowl could get his weird, bitter energon after! “Come look at the closet, it’s a mystery! And you like mysteries, right Prowl? It’s bigger on the inside!”

Prowl only sighed, shaking his head as he turned and came back up the stairs. Bluestreak was waiting at the top and took the adult’s hand, tugging him down the hall toward his room.

“I woke up last night and remembered what you said, about it just being a closet, so I went in there to check but there was a gap behind the truck, so I thought maybe something had moved it but there’s never any sound in there, just a weird feeling, right? So, I left but it took longer to leave then go in and when I looked back it was even bigger than before!”

“Are you sure you weren’t having a dream?” They turned into the younglings room with Bluestreak still leading Prowl until they reached the closet door where he dropped his guardian’s hand.

“It was bigger! There was a big gap behind the trunk a second time, and I had enough room to run out of the doorway last night.” Prowl only nodded, patient but clearly humoring the young mech, and opened the closet door.

It was just a small closet.

Prowl sighed, stepping through the doorway and holding his arms out, touching the walls on either side. “It seems the same size as before." Prowl dropped his arms and looked at his young charge with a small, reassuring smile. "I really think you just had a dream, but at least it was an interesting dream and not a terrible one.”

Bluestreak felt uneasy again, upset at his confusion and the sureness of what he’d seen. The closet _had_ been bigger. Longer. Wider. But Prowl had never felt weird about the closet so maybe it was a mystery only for him.

“Now,” Prowl stepped out of the closet and planted a hand on the youngling’s help, trying to comfort him. “Don’t worry about the closet, you’ll get used to it the longer we live here. I’m going to go get us some fuel and then we can go get some paint for your closet, any color you want.”

Still a little unsure of himself, Bluestreak could only nod. Painting the inside of the closet a pretty color would be nice, regardless of if it was a weird expanding closet. It was nice of Prowl to try and distract him though. He remained where he stood, watching his guardian leave the room and turn down the hall toward the staircase.

When Bluestreak turned back to the open doorway he gasped, staring down a long corridor. The walls to either side had remained the same distance apart but the back wall, the one behind his trunk, had stretched out far. It was definitely longer than the side of the house but that was impossible! He could see the back wall though, dim in the shadows since the sunshine coming through his window couldn’t reach that far.

Well, if Prowl couldn’t figure out the mystery, couldn’t even see it, maybe it wasn’t a mystery for adults? Bluestreak walked through the doorway, following the corridor as it stretched. He passed his trunk, marking it as ten steps from the entrance, and let his fingers drag along the wall to his right. It grew dimmer as he went, the closet didn’t have a light so only the sunlight lit anything now, but the far wall seemed ordinary—except for it being too far from the entrance.

When he finally reached it, and it had seemed like a longer walk than it looked, he pushed the wall with his hand only to find it solid. The odd feeling came over him then, the weird uneasy sensation of something being wrong, and he turned his head as something moved in his peripheral.

The walls to either side were suddenly so far away!

Spooked, Bluestreak spun around to head back out, intent to find Prowl, only to see that the corridor had become a massive room. A massive, dimly lit room. The doorway was a tiny speck of light in the distance and that fact alone was enough to spur him into a run.

“ **Prowl!** ”

He didn’t know if his guardian would hear his cry from this far away, but he certainly yelled as loud as he could. He didn’t want to get lost in this weird giant closet! But the doorway was so far away, the speck of light growing only a little larger as he ran for it. The feeling of unease grew, the wrongness more acute, and he knew it meant the walls were changing again and he wondered if they would expand forever. But he was too far in, it was too dim to see, all his focus on the little rectangle of bright light that was now dimming to nothing as the doorway shut with a distant slam.


	9. Storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing too involved today

It was beautiful, an expanse of swirling color with the illusion of sluggishness. Like a dark stain it spun, slow and yet fast. What appeared peaceful from a distance was shearing violence, the wind ripping against itself to churn the atmosphere. It was a wonderful distraction from his loneliness, the long shifts alone in the cold were easier to handle with the gas giant and it’s gazing eye in sight.

It was alluring.

The humans had named this planet after the king of the gods, some king of the sky in some classical religeon. He could understand why, the planet was nothing but endless swirling sky, the largest one in the planetary system. His passed closer, letting the well of gravity tug him down, and looked out over the sea of roiling clouds the color of rust.

It wanted him.

The orange-reds and creams gave way to a great expanse of red where great eddies spun, twirling and whipping the winds to spiral against each other. Even from here, close, but too close, it looked calmer than he knew it should be. How fast were they raging, down in that storm? What would it feel like to have the exotic atmosphere tear into the gaps between plating, even in altmode?

It was calling.

The electromagnetic sound was haunting, a low metallic moaning that ebbed and flowed like the movement of the clouds beneath him. It was a siren song, drowning out the monotony of his mission and driving the loneliness away. He drifted down, feeling the stranglehold of gravity draw him down, down until the wisp of angry clouds buffeted him as if to beckon him down further. It did not take much more, the little saucer had no reason to fight his way back up into the coldness of empty space. He sank down, plunging into the great storm.

It would have him.


	10. Visitor

Soundwave wasn’t prone to worry, his cassettes were capable of taking care of themselves for the most part. Still, it was grating when they did not _call_. It wasn’t terribly late into the night yet, so he supposed Ravage might still be out enjoying the cool air before she would return home. Soundwave didn’t fret—it was safer in this little town than it had been in the city. At least all his other troublemakers were here at home.

He could fear Rumble and Frenzy bickering over something upstairs. Their voices hadn’t grown too loud yet so he would not intervene, no point in interrupting his own activities until it was necessary. He was able to enjoy the peace of putting his model together for almost an hour before a shrill insult and an unpleasant sounding slam came from above.

He hardly had time to set his project aside before the momentary pause in their antics turned into panicked screaming. Soundwave jerked, nearly knocking his work table over as he bolted from his seat and out of the room.

Rumble and Frenzy were calling for him, scrambling down the stairs to meet him the downstairs hall, the pair of them — Rumble more dented and scuffed than his brother, no doubt being the one who had been previously slammed into the floor — looking over their shoulders.

“There’s someone in the house!”

“We saw ‘em! They was in your room, Boss!”

“Yeah, watchin’ us!”  
  
“Yeah!”

While the two were clearly spooked, seeking his comfort, Soundwave was listening carefully to the sound of the little house they occupied. He could hear his other cassettes, Laserbeak and Buzzsaw, in their attic roost. They had been startled from sleep by the noise but seemed otherwise calm. He could hear the upstairs window gently rattling in its frame from the wind and made a note to check it for maintenance.

But no other sound.

“No intruder detected.” At least none Soundwave could find. This didn’t soothe the pair of uncomfortable cassettes but he wasn’t going to dismiss them entirely. “Description?” It could simply be Ravage being Ravage. She enjoyed making fools of them at times.

“Uhh, big! Real big!” Rumble began, wasting no time in gesticulating as best he could.

“Yeah! And dark! With these creepy green optics.”

“And kinda hunched over, right Frenzy?”

“Yeah—fraggin’ weirdo.”

Soundwave didn’t bother to scold the blue cassette for his language, only stepping around them to climb the stairs and have a look at the second floor. Above him he could hear his avians, both quiet and calm, and assumed they would return to their napping once the commotion had settled. He checked the room his cassettes shared first, looking in to see all was well, mess notwithstanding. The window was latched and there was no sign of anything out of sorts. From inside he could look out across the hall to his own room, the door ajar, and assumed this supposed intruder had been seen there.

His own room was empty, of course. And much cleaner. Regardless, Soundwave checked the storage closet and the attached washracks, both of which were empty and as he remembered leaving them. He checked the rattly window but it was closed and locked.

Finally, he climbed the small ladder that led into the attic, poking his head in through the access door, meeting the curious gaze of Buzzsaw only inches from his face. Undisturbed, Soundwave made a slow scan of the sparse space, finding nothing out of the ordinary and no big, hulking shapes hiding behind the low pile of boxes against one wall.

Soundwave, finding nothing to worry over, reached out to pet his avian cassette, assuring him that all was well, before descending back down the latter and then the stairs, finding Rumble and Frenzy standing close to one another where he’d left them.

“Intruder not found—no evidence of entry.” A dark hand was planted on one cassette helm each. “No more roughhousing, go to sleep.” The pair looked a little putout, but seemed more assured now that their Boss had looked over the upper floors and found nothing. “And no more horror movies.”

“Awww…”

“But Boss—”

“No. Clearly horror movies are generating paranoia. Rest now, there is no danger.” He sent them both upstairs, confident they would obey, and returned to the den where he could continue working on his model until he was ready for recharge as well. He sat in his chair, pulling his work table closer and making sure nothing had been thrown from it when he so hastily rose earlier.

Movement caught his attention and he looked up and out of the glass door leading into the yard. A dark shape was stretched across the ground in the shadows, a black lump that moved in slow, jerking halts. Slowly a small dead rose from the shape, dim red optics peering at him through the glass. Her hackles rose as she tried to stand, the glow of energon trickling down her front.

Ravage. Injured.

Soundwave pushed the table aside, ready to rise when he noticed another shape, much less distinct and extremely translucent. A large, hulking shape reflected in the glass from behind him.


	11. Thalassophobia

The Argon Sea was a strange thing. Made of dense gas and deep enough that most of its interior was a mystery, the sea of lilac clouds was dangerous and beautiful. Ships crossing it had to maintain a certain weight, their round, flat hulls bobbing along over the top of the bright clouds. The ever-present danger of the gas shifting in density, a pocket opening up under the craft and leaving it to sink into the depths.

Road Rage hated it.

But there was nothing for it now. She had to sail across this deathtrap, escorting the Primal Ambassador, and would no doubt have to sail back across the sea when the diplomatic business was finished. It was an unpleasant prospect, but the work of establishing good connections with other kingdoms was too important for a little dangerous travel to get in the way.

As it was, she tried to enjoy it as best she could. It had been three days and the ship was far from any help should the gas supporting it give out, so Road Rage tried not to think of it. At least the sunsets were pretty.

“ _Just enjoy it for what it is.”_ Ambassador Crosscut had told her. “It is a rare thing that one of the ships _goes down without reason. We’ll be fine.”_

Famous last words.

Still, she did try and look for things to enjoy. Road Rage found she liked to stand on the railing of the upper deck — these ships only had three — and looked down into the swirling red-violet. The sun had just dipped below the horizon and she found herself at the rail again.

There were lights down there, flashing and moving far below. Mechanimals that dwelled in the Argon, their flickering lights only visible during the night, or so one of the crew had explained when she had asked about it the night prior. She wondered what their lives must be like, those little mechanimals, with there little lights.

Her gaze slid up, closer to the horizon, taking note of the little flashes of light here or there, obscured by the gas of the sea. There were other lights out there, two of them beneath the clouds too, but larger. They seemed to move slowly, gliding under the surface before turning down to dim into the depths. No doubt those were larger creatures doing… whatever it was large Argon Sea creatures do.

Road Rage watched the billowy sea for a while longer before turning from the railing and walking across the flat top of the ship, descending the stairs to the passenger deck at the bottom. Here she was reminded of the perils of being on the Argon sea. Long, narrow windows looked out into a dense abyss of violet and she made a point not to look out into it as she found the cabin she was sharing with the Ambassador.

“Still fretting over our trip?” Crosscut was lounging on the small berth against the left wall, a datapad propped up on his chest. It was a very unprofessional display but they were alone in their room and Road Rage wasn’t one he needed to put on airs for. “You’ve got that look again.”

“I do not have a look.” She may be apprehensive about their safety out here, knowing there was nothing she could do if something went wrong, but she knew she didn’t have any sort of _look_!

Crosscut only snickered, continuing to read. He was so calm… did he not consider how easy it would be for them both to sink into the deep and die? Or, perhaps, he simply ignored it to avoid the stress of it all.

She tried not to think of it as she checked the room out of habit, knowing there was no danger from the small crew and that, out here, no stranger could approach. Once finished she climbed into her own little berth — luxury was not something one expected when  c rossing the Argon — and  just relaxed. With no windows and the smooth sailing  of the ship , it was easier to forget in here.

I n the peaceful quiet Road Rage dozed, slipping in and out of shallow sleep as she listened to the soft sound of the Ambassador shifting while he read. The low hum of the power generators on the ship was a soothing white noise  and the gentle sway of the ship over the clouds was soothing. She was unaware of how long she spent like that, but when  alertness came, sudden and clear, she found Crosscut was in recharge and the light had been turned off.

What had woken her?

The room wobbled, the movement more forceful than the gentle swaying from before but not jarring enough to wake Crosscut. Road Rage, however, was already climbing out of the berth and heading for the door. It could be nothing, a simply eddy in the gas sea, or the ship could be sinking into the lilac clouds without knowing. Even if she could do nothing, she wanted to at least see what was happening.

The curved corridor outside of the cabin was dark, the red-violet clouds in the long windows swirled tumultuously against the glass. She tried not to look, but the flashing lights of mechanimals darting just out of slight were distracting. She could see their dark shapes, obscured, strange and alien as they swam in the dense gas.

Something large moved in the near-distance, nothing more than a half-formed shadow, a long cable-like creature that swayed slowly through the sea. It would have been interesting if it weren’t so large. Or so close. Far as it seemed, she knew that if she could see it from the little windows, even mostly obscured, then it wasn’t too far.

Up the stairs and onto the upper deck, Road Rage down it was deserted. The small crew was no doubt working on the bridge, the upper deck was for observation and the movement of passengers on and off the ship. Still, she had expected one crewmate to be up here.

At the rail she found the Argon Sea rolling, the clouds under the ship swirling and billowing. The ship wobbled, caught in the turbulence, but remained dense enough to keep the ship from sinking. It did little to calm the unease in her chest, even less so when the dark shape of the long creature she’d seen arched up from below and disturbed the clouds nearby.

Road Rage watched it with a frown, her unease turning into a muted terror that she desperately crushed down, as it breached into the less dense atmosphere above. It was followed by another, and then a third, all of them great dark tubes with only the curved arch exposed. They were segmented, with rings of teal biolights between segments and little other features.

They were large enough to capsize the ship, if they bumped into it from below, or drag it under if one of them looped over the top and simply sank back down into the clouds. She _hated_ it.

A pair of lights, large and steady, slowly materialized from below. They were the same lights she’d seen earlier, the large creatures off in the distance. They moved in sync, becoming brighter and more distinct as they rose through the argon until Road Rage could see them just below the billowing purple-pink of the sea.

Optics.

They were massive optics in a massive face and the long tube-creatures were part of that face. They stared at her, seeing her, cunning and intelligent, and she felt a new panic seize her. This thing, whatever it was, whoever it was, could end this trip with no effort at all. And as she stared back into yellow optics larger than the ship she was on, she knew it understood her fear.

It moved, this great thing in the sea, and the long tendrils of its face sank into the gas, causing more eddies to disturb the clouds. The great yellow optics continued to watch her as they sank down, the light dimmer but still visible as the enormous mass slid with ease through the sea as it followed the ship. The two of them, Road Rage and this great Dweller, continued to watch one another for a long while.

It was near dawn when the yellow lights slid deeper, vanishing into the clouds. Someone was coming up the stairs to the upper deck and approaching her, though she could not tear her gaze from the spot where she’d last seen that thing.

“Did the turbulence wake you?” It was Crosscut who came to stand beside his escort, looking out over the Argon sea and the lightening sky. “The Captain said it was nothing serious, apparently it happens a lot at night.”

“Is that so?” Her tone was dull, she knew, and she still stared out into the sea of clouds.

“Mhmm! I know you don’t like the sea, Rage, but it really isn’t that bad. We’ll be _fine_. Now, have you had breakfast?”

Finally, _finally_ , she tore her gaze from the pink clouds, turning to offer the Ambassador a thin smile. “No. Let’s go get something then? I might feel better with some fuel in me.” She wouldn’t.

They still had a week of sailing ahead of them and now she knew that they weren’t out here alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just really like the Argon Sea and the Dweller from Cyberverse. Like a lot. A lot a lot.


	12. ∞

He told me the old story about the Fairy King and the crystals once we had gotten to the garden. The story of how the Fairy King would fall in love and lure his object of affection into his domain with sweet promises and tokens of adoration. The poor souls would become trapped in the crystals, locked in the infinite reflections and refractions of light and color so that the Fairy King could always keep them close.

It was a story I already knew but I didn’t mind hearing him retell the tale—he was so excited to share with me and I enjoyed his enthusiasm. Of course, I knew other, more obscure tellings of that story too. Some said it was a demon rather than a fairy, another story mentioned a wizard, and one particularly odd variant said it all happened in a dream.

I didn’t really care what the antagonist of the story was supposed to be, they always ended with the lover trapped forever. It might not have been a pleasant story, but it had a sort of bleak romance to it that was appealing.

He was enjoying the last of the snacks I’d bought while I folded the blanket. The picnic had been nice and we would end the date with a walk through the gardens. The crystals here were very old, most of them predating the garden itself and he seemed to enjoy them a great deal.

Perhaps that was why he’d told me that story.

I took his hand and we walked together along the natural trail. I looked at him as he began to talk, telling me how much he’d enjoyed the treats and commenting on the crystals around us. He was so beautiful, shining, and full of life. I adored his bright personality and the warmth he gave me whenever he looked at me with affection. I don’t know what I would do without him.

I told him I loved him and he rewarded me with a bright smile and told me he felt the same. He really was wonderful. I tugged his hand up to kiss the back of his dark fingers before tugging him off the trail and between the crystals. He followed, curious, and I told him of a beautiful glade not far from where we were.

I wasn’t lying.

The clearing wasn’t very large but we had room enough. I showed him the slender pink crystal that could just barely be seen from the trail, and the larger violet-blue one that had grown to circle half the clearing. He seemed to like that one more, which was good because I wouldn’t want him to be unhappy.

I pointed between the delicate branches, brushing my shoulder against him as he leaned in to see. They were all there, waiting, and for a moment my love seemed confused. But that was alright, I already had him, and he joined the rest of my beloveds there among the infinite crystals mirrored there.

I was happy, knowing he was safe there. Death would not find him, as would no injury or pain. I would never lose him now, my beautiful Jazz.

I certainly was no Fairy King, but at least the old stories got the import part right.


	13. Sight Seeing

The city slid by on the other side of the window, the ever-moving scenery held something new each time he looked. Jazz certainly didn’t mind the view, watching impassively as the stark back end of industrial buildings speckled in graffiti let off steam from exhaust vents in the dim light of an endless night. There were always things to see, little lights or flickering screens advertising some warehouse specialty business among the brutalist infrastructure gliding past the window as the train continued along its track.

A modular vidscreen set up on the wall of a building was showing an old movie, something great monster stomping through a city. There was a small crowd of mechs standing below it, they should have been watching the film but were all turned to stare at the passing train. Jazz thought they were looking back at him as he gazed out the window, but that couldn’t be.

As the train moved along the wide, dark side of a building, Jazz turned his gaze to the inside of the car. He was sitting near the back, curling up in his seat to lean against the window. The seats around him were empty, but there were other passengers a little farther up. They sat quietly, none of them paying mind to anyone else, all of them nameless and indistinct. Even if Jazz studied one, that one there with the red and blue plating who was reading, he couldn’t seem to recall much detail when he glanced away at another.

Oh well.

The view, no longer obscured by the side of a building, opened up to the elevated view of tall towers with so many tiny lighted windows looming in dark. Neon lights decorated the towers, climbed their sides, or perched at the top of upper floors looming above the train while the glow of streets down below, unseen from the window, bathed everything in an eerie light.

Jazz didn’t recognize any of the buildings. Had he been here before? When had he gotten on the train? And where?

It didn’t matter. The car was moving around a large cylindrical building, gliding close enough to see through the windows if he looked hard enough. Those weren’t mechs looking back at him anymore, watching him as the train rushed by. What were they looking at anyway? Jazz was just a passenger on a train.

He didn’t have to think about it much longer, however, as the car moved out over the empty space between towering skyscrapers. The neon signs clinging to the buildings flickered and flashed, advertising everything and nothing. Jazz looked at them, seeing the bright haze of colored lights giving life to the dark cityscape slowly creeping by.

The lettering on the signs was foreign to him, something unreadable and unknown that itched the back of his processor. He wanted to remember something, something important, but nothing solid came to mind as he looked out across the dark to watch a large vidscreen play another advertisement as the train continued along the track.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like this fits yesterdays prompt a bit better but ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> Also I feel like these aren't nearly as good as last years and I am going to blame it on 2020 just being 2020


	14. Murder

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am like for realsies having a super hard time writing anything this month ;;
> 
> Be feeling like [Spongebob.](https://assets.rbl.ms/14353031/980x.jpg)
> 
> :'D

Sound came first, though there was nothing to hear. It was quiet, so very quiet, and only the faint hum of his own internal systems could be heard at first. As more of his processor roused to awareness the even more faint and distant sound of power generators hummed somewhere to the left, likely through several walls.

Sensation came slowly, the heavy feeling of his frame lying supine on a smooth, flat surface rising from the thick syrup of waking. The leaden sensation permeated everything and his slowly waking mind didn’t bother trying to move yet. He could feel the air, cool and still, against his plating—the stillness made him wonder where he might be though he doubted he was outside. Wherever he was, it was calm and probably safe.

A faint tapping sounded behind a wall, the sound slowly growing louder and more distinct. Footsteps. He tried to power on his optical sensors but the command failed, as did his attempt to move when the sound grew closer. His sense of safety turned to panic, though he tried to think rationally—perhaps he was injured? A medic might have made sure he couldn’t get up and hurt himself further.

The echoing screech of an old, misaligned door being opened distracted him. Blind and immobile, he could do nothing but wait where he was as the crisp footsteps made their way unhurriedly came toward him.

“Awake?”

He knew that voice. He _hated_ that voice.

Panic found him, panic and rage when he couldn’t answer. Blind, mute, immobile, he could do nothing as The Voice laughed.

“Oh you are, aren’t you? Your fans are straining. That’s good, it’s always so much more satisfying when you’re awake.”

There was a scrape above him, the touch of something at the top of his head, and then the firm pressure needles invading into his mind. He couldn’t see but he knew, could _feel_ the needles and the intruding prescience accessing his code. Fear and panic pushed back but there was little he could do but watch, helplessly, as the monster dove deep and bang deleting lines of code.

His fans were the first things shut off, the cycling of air to cool components no longer wicking the heat away. Immediately his temperature began to rise, stress accelerating the process. He screamed against the invader, finding himself locked out of accessing his own systems as more of his most basic coding was butchered and deleted.

His liquid cooling system shut down next, exacerbating the rising heat. The heavy feeling in his frame increased and a cold dread clamped down around his spark. He was burning already, smaller auxiliary systems shutting down out of self-preservation.

“I’m sure you can imagine how this will end, yes? Let’s just take care of that now—”

The pressure shifted, sliding around in his systems in a manner that made him queasy. He had little time to entertain thoughts of purging, too busy reeling at the violation and the dread building in him more quickly than the sweltering heat. Something in his head, in his code, snapped and some of the fear was gone. But only some.

He didn’t remember who The Voice was anymore.

The terror began to build again as he realized, and just as quickly was made to forget, that he _had_ known who The Voice was. Memories were stripped from him, small at first, but in larger and larger chunks. He was aware of this for a while until he could not remember why it was terrifying only that he was terrified. He was so hot, so hot and scared, and he couldn’t remember his own name.

And then he couldn’t remember words, how to speak, how to read the endless errors and warnings.

He couldn't remember how to think.

All he knew was the burning heat melting his wires and over-stressing what systems were still active.

All he knew was the pressure in his head, slicing, cutting, taking away the sounds and the feel of the air on his plating.

All he knew was the darkness and the fear.


End file.
